Would You Tell Me If I Asked, Hedwig?

The boy was now regarding him rather curiously.

"Do you think I get my hair colour from the Prince line?" he asked suddenly, rather surprising Severus.

He shrugged. "It is possible," he replied, finding the notion rather intriguing despite his outward nonchalance.

"Hmm," the boy hummed, sinking back into deep thought.

Severus lifted his chin a little and happened to spy the letter sitting on the far corner of his desk where Dumbledore had replaced it; spurring him on to ask about the matter that had been on his mind.

"Why did you send that letter, Potter?" he asked, still rather perplexed about the boy's motives.

The teenager glanced back up at Severus.  He shrugged.  "I don't know, I guess it was just symbolic... like I was actually talking to someone else, rather than just myself," he replied, embarrassment becoming obvious in his demeanour.

Severus continued to gaze at the boy in silence, taking in the small nuances that told the fuller story the boy could not, or was unwilling to, put into words.

Because the Professor had not yet responded Potter evidently felt it necessary to continue.

"I'm scared, alright... no-one is ever there to tell me what to do or what not to do.  I'm not really sure what's expected of me.   I'm bloody well fumbling around in the dark and I'm making mistakes - really critical ones - and I don't want to make any more!"

The boy's tone was rising in anger.  He was clearly frustrated and certainly feeling the pressure that Severus only just now could appreciate the boy must be under.  The dark man had an idea that Dumbledore must have recently shared the contents of the prophecy with the teenager; his words hinting at a fresh awareness of a future burden.   But what should he tell him?  Severus himself was not acquainted with the entirety of Albus' plans... but as much as that knowledge galled him he had come to accept it to a degree.

He took in a breath before speaking.  "You are a child, Potter - nothing is expected of you yet." 

The teen looked back up at him, frowning; irritated by Severus' apparently dismissive words and perhaps a tad indignant at being called a child.  But Severus was not yet finished. 

"When, or even if, you are meant to act, you will be apprised of what you need to know in order to do so.  Spend your time not in worry or guilt, but preparation; learn, study, practice - be the best you can be and then you will be ready to act when it is required of you."

That was all he was prepared to offer the child for the moment.   At least until he himself could grasp and come to terms with what their actual relationship was comprised of.  He wasn't even sure he could give more considering his own entanglement in the looming war. 

That fact alone almost swayed him that perhaps never discovering the truth might be the best strategy from here.  The boy seemed quite satisfied with the evidence he'd so far received, Severus could very well let it be and save them all the grief and anguish that might be looming should it be discovered they'd both been deceived all these years.

But then, what if it was true... what if Severus never knew for sure?  Could he bear gazing upon the boy for the rest of their lives wondering; aching to find out if somehow he'd finally created something wonderful... something he could finally be proud of?

And if it turned out that it wasn't so... well then they could go on with their pitiful lives knowing they'd not lost anything more than was already known.  They could be at peace with the issue.  The both of them honestly had far greater burdens on their shoulders that weighed them down enough without this looming portentously in the background.  And the boy would most likely realise the issue was not resolved absolutely all on his own... eventually; and then he'd demand to know.

Severus sighed resignedly.  "Well, you might as well know now," he began, gaining an uneasy, yet questioning glance from the boy.  "You see, the evidence of a common ancestor, whilst seemingly implicative of the truth, is not sufficient to definitively determine the question of your paternity."

Potter looked genuinely perplexed, so Severus explained further.

"Meaning that we could still be father and son if it turns out you are not, in actual fact, a Potter by birth."

Potter paled a little, evidently realising their dilemma was still ongoing.

"So, what do we do now?" he asked, appearing to instinctively know that what was coming was not something to be thrilled about.

"Something a little more potent than the Kinship Potion, and arduous to brew I'm afraid; the Fateor Parentis Draught.  The process is somewhat barbaric and the both of us will need to be sure about proceeding - and consent is critical.  It's not a decision to be taken lightly," Severus said with utter seriousness.  He would not (literally could not) deceive the boy about the ordeal they would need to ride through to get their answer.

"Fateor Parentis?" the boy questioned.

"To Reveal Parental contribution," Severus translated, "through flesh and blood... literally," he added emphatically.

"Like a blood test?" Potter asked somewhat hopefully.

Severus scoffed slightly before snuffing the sarcasm.  "Hardly, Potter... the flesh and blood of both subjects would be used as the base for the potion; they are the bulk of the ingredients."

The teenager's eyes widened for a moment, comprehending the extent of what Severus was illuminating.

"We'll go over the recipe before we need make a decision," Severus offered, knowing that only seeing for oneself what was required could empower anyone to choose to proceed.

"And... well, when would we be doing this?" Potter asked tentatively.

Severus decided to answer the question with a question of his own.  "When do you want to see this issue resolved, Potter?"

Reluctant, yet resigned, Potter answered.  "Same as you, I guess... as soon as possible."

Severus nodded his agreement.  "I do not possess a copy of the recipe, though I believe I know where I can obtain a version easily enough.  In fact, I'll have you act as courier." 

Potter looked surprised, but Severus merely reached for his quill and scribbled out a note on another piece of parchment for the boy to take with him.

"Professor Slughorn I am sure has in his possession a copy of this text," he said, indicating the message he'd written on the page and then proceeded to fold the letter and hand it over to the teenager.  "Do not discuss with him what I could need it for; play dumb," and unable to resist getting in one more dig before regret could kick at him again, he added derisively, "I'm sure that is well within your capabilities."

Potter scowled at him, clearly affronted, practically snatching the folded parchment from Severus' outstretched fingers.  Severus very almost smirked at the boy's reaction - no wonder he'd found baiting the boy so gratifying throughout the previous years.

He then checked over his staff timetable, invoked the doors to unlock and sent the boy on his way to find Horace Slughorn in either the staff room or his office, for luck would have it that the old Professor was free of classes at this very moment.

HP.SS.HP.SS.

Harry was rather peeved at the continuing jibes by Professor Snape.  Could the man not just put it aside until they knew for sure where they stood relationship wise?  Harry was confused enough about how he ought to act and respond to the man at present - the man who just might still be his biological father - without the added tension that came from him constantly flipping from agreeable to callous and back again.

As he walked along the corridors, headed for the new Potions Master's office, Harry allowed his mind to digest all that had occurred that day so far.

After all the testing and evidence they had already discovered there apparently was still some doubt about who was actually Harry's biological father.  But why Professor Snape still believed there was a chance ‘he' might be Harry's father perplexed Harry a bit.  The man had admitted that he'd never been with Lily intimately, so wouldn't that exclude him?  But of course Harry had understood what both Dumbledore and Snape had meant when they discussed whether it was possible that Snape had been deceived all those years ago, or had had his memory of a potential encounter Obliviated from his mind; but the question that now occurred to Harry was not how it may have happened, but why both men deigned it possible at all.

What conceivable circumstances would have to have existed to have the possibility that Harry's mother, Lily Potter, nee Evans, would ever have considered sleeping with Professor Snape and which also would have meant Snape would need to contemplate the possibility as deeply as he had?

‘What... had they known one another better than Harry realised?' he thought incredulously.

The thought gathered momentum more and more as it formed until Harry wondered further, ‘Did they date one another at some stage or something?' 

He frowned at the thought because he couldn't comprehend how his mother could possibly have liked the cold, acid tongued, ugly man... but that didn't necessarily mean that he couldn't like her.  Lily Potter was beautiful and immensely popular, after all.  Or so Harry had been told.

‘Had Snape fancied her?' he thought, and the idea took on more merit when Harry recalled Snape's reactions to the question Professor Dumbledore had put forward.

The prospects after Harry contemplated that idea soon birthed more and more fantastic notions and possibilities that came pouring from his subconscious.

Had Lily been such a wonderful person that she'd been able to look past the horrid man's flaws and a relationship had blossomed?  (Remus had once said she could see the beauty in some that couldn't even see it in themselves.) 

And then... had Lily ultimately come to terms with the fact that Snape wasn't worthy of her respect, when he announced his affiliation with the Death Eaters, and broken their union; turning at last to the honourable James Potter? 

And afterwards, in bitter jealousy, Snape hadn't left her alone, so she'd been forced to Obliviate his memories of their relationship altogether?

Or perhaps had Snape forced himself upon Lily; the man was once a Death Eater, after all.  And then Lily had stolen the memories of the crime because she hadn't wanted Snape to get his hands on Harry? 

Or... or had Lily, when she was part of the Order, been sent to spy on Snape when he was still in Voldemort's ranks and she'd slept with him to convince him to trust her?  It would have been easy if Snape had fancied her...

Or maybe she went in disguise, using Polyjuice Potion or something... and that's why Snape didn't realise...

Harry instantly shook himself as he rounded the last corner before he came to Professor Slughorn's office.  His thoughts had become bizarre and, quite frankly, stomach-churning.   The teen did not want to imagine that his conception had come as the result of such deprivation and deception.  He would need to stop the wild speculating and maybe try to get a little more information from Snape himself.  Maybe, just maybe, the Professor would share something with him if he asked nicely.

He came to a stop in front of the new Professor's door and knocked firmly.

"Come in," a muffled voice said, and Harry turned the doorknob and entered the office.

HP.SS.HP.SS.

Severus flipped through the pages of the text Potter had brought back with him until he found the page he sought.  He skimmed over the recipe before him and grimaced slightly; the reality of the process was even more vicious than he had remembered.

He drew his eyes back to the top of the page and examined the list of ingredients more intently and after several moments determined that he had enough of everything listed at his disposal for them to be able to proceed immediately if they so chose.

He looked up to the oddly quiet teen sitting back on the opposite side of his desk just as the boy opened his mouth to speak.

"Just how well did you know my Mum?" he asked so quickly that Severus had to take a moment to decipher what the boy had said.  

Schooling his features into his routine unreadable expression he summarily ignored the boy's loaded question in favour of sliding over the text for the teen to read from.  He had absolutely no intention of satisfying the boy's sudden curiosity.

"Read," he commanded the boy.  "You will need to be certain you are willing to proceed.

Potter took a hold of the text and drew it closer to himself, but before he glanced down at the page he maintained eye contact with Severus and a minutely fraught look settled onto his face.

"Please tell me why you would even believe my mother could have slept with you and then stolen your memories of it," he said. 

Severus narrowed his eyes, but decided to respond.

"I do not," he answered succinctly, hoping to nip the questioning in the bud.

The boy frowned with disbelief.

"But you're considering it; otherwise we wouldn't even be doing this," he said, indicating to the book his teacher had just given him.  "I want to know... why do you even consider it possible?"

The teenager gazed speculatively at the stony faced, dark man for a moment before taking a profound breath.  "What, did you fancy my Mum or something?" he asked boldly, but moments later he looked as though he was physically trying to retract the words from the air into which he'd foolishly released them.

Severus practically saw stars behind his eyes in his shock at the boy's audacious, very personal and prying question and gripped the edge of his desk furiously whilst glaring at the teen.

"Read. The. Page," he leaned forward menacingly and demanded with a brusque and pointed snarl, but despite all his best effort he could not stop the warm flush that washed across his face.  He hoped very keenly that Potter interpreted the colour, which no doubt gave him away, as a burn of anger and not a blush of embarrassment.

HP.SS.HP.SS.

Harry, although quite cowed, felt intrigued by the pink shade of colour that had just bloomed across the Professor's face.  It could easily be humiliation or mortification, and could just as easily represent guilt as it might the fury that Snape probably wanted Harry to believe.

‘So Snape liked Mum?' Harry inferred, wondrously amused, though he wisely kept that sentiment to himself.  He obediently looked down at the text, pretending to read to gratify the irate man glaring at him from the other side of the desk.

The boy, his eyes glancing uncomprehendingly over the print, continued to speculate.  ‘So, is that why he seemed to want to find something of himself in me - because he liked the idea of sharing something with Lily?'  The idea stung a bit, because Harry had honestly desired someone who might want him for himself for once in his life, but maybe Snape could grow to be proud of him; Harry could settle for that.

‘And that's why he's not immediately ruling it out,' Harry decided.  ‘That's why he wants us to complete this potion,' he thought, finally starting to take in the words his eyes had been skimming.  ‘He wants to know for sure whether he has any claim to Lily's child.'

Harry began reading the list of ingredients to the Fateor Parentis Draught; there weren't many.  Well, there weren't many separate ingredients.  However, he didn't fully register until he came to the Method just how much of some of the volumes of those elements really equated to.  He was aghast.

Reading further, Harry even felt his face drain of blood when he realised not only what he'd be expected to provide (and over that extended period of time) as ‘subject number one', but what Snape would be expected to do as not only ‘subject number two', but also as the ‘brewer'.

He looked up in alarm at his Professor.  "Are you going to try to brew this on your own?" he asked, concerned.  "Well, with only my help?" he supplemented.

Snape attempted a sneer at the teen implication that his help would be at all valuable, but clearly the task at hand was cause for disquiet for him as well so his derision was only half-hearted.  "I will need to examine the process more closely before we try, but I think I can manage," he answered.  The confidence, and even arrogance, Harry perceived wasn't nearly as potent as he would ordinarily expect from Snape.

Looking back down at the recipe Harry read over it again.  The things they would be expected to withstand were utterly brutal and honestly Harry did not think he'd be able to endure it.  He shook his head, completely in awe of Professor Snape's fortitude and courage; for he would not be able to rest or lose concentration in between times like Harry would be able to.

Harry glanced back to Snape.  "Can maybe Professor Dumbledore brew, or help at least?" he asked, hopeful.

Snape regarded him intently.  "Perhaps... are you saying you would agree if that were the case?"

Harry took in a very deep breath.  He would have liked to say ‘yes', but another glance at the insidious page and his nerve rebelled on him - he just knew it was asking too much of his body to endure this.  He wasn't necessarily scared (well, maybe he was scared a little), but he just didn't think he could hold out physically.

He looked up again shaking his head.  "No," he answered concisely.  "I don't think I can do this."

Snape frowned at him.  "No...?" he drawled sardonically, clearly unimpressed.  "You'd rather not know?" he asked mockingly.  "Frankly then, Potter, your supposedly famous Gryffindor nerve is somewhat disappointing."

Harry frowned back, feeling quite affronted by the dig at his courage.  But he did not retort to the jibe, merely huffing out a sigh in his own disappointment.  He really had wanted to know for sure, no doubt as earnestly as Professor Snape had.  It made him wonder if there was truly no other way.

"There must be another way to find out for sure," he began, "some other potion or test..."

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes.  "No, there is no other.  Not that provide such definitive results, anyway," he replied. 

This had Harry thinking.  It didn't sound right to him.  He knew there was a way; he had seen this sort of dilemma play out on Muggle television programmes.

"What about a Muggle blood test?" he suggested eagerly.

"Not definitive, they're based on blood type matching and exclusion of factors - and without a sample from you mother I don't believe a result is possible," Snape said dismissively.

"Yeah, but what about DNA?  They can do that, can't they?  And you don't even need blood, just a swab sample taken from inside your cheek will do, I've heard."

At Harry's suggestion Snape looked genuinely perplexed.  "DNA?" he asked curiously.  And after a moment of confusion Harry suddenly gasped incredulously.

"You don't know about DNA?" he asked.  Snape shook his head slightly.

"It's what Muggles use now.  It's Muggle science.  They use it to match suspects if they have a sample from a crime scene.  They can even isolate diseases in people, and then devise cures.  Or like us, to determine paternity.  They can compare the DNA from your cells.  From what I understand it's definitive."

Snape blinked, evidently lost for words.  Harry didn't know the man could even be reduced to such a state.  He felt suddenly elated at having knowledge that Professor Snape didn't.

He instantly came to the conclusion that Snape, like most Wizards (and especially Pure-blood Wizards who did not place sufficient value on Muggle technology and knowledge and rarely ventured into the Muggle world), had not kept abreast of Muggle science the Muggle technology since the Professor had last become aware and literate in blood typing (which must have been many years ago) and the discipline had moved on and left the dark man lagging woefully behind. 

It was rather comical really, to see the Potions Master floundering in what would have been considered the closest Muggle counterpart field to Potions - Science.

The man huffed out an astounded sigh and nodded.  "I shall look into it," he said quietly, and very smartly Harry found himself evicted from the Professor's office and sent on his way to the Gryffindor common room.  The last class for the day would be ending in only fifteen minutes, and Harry was given permission to skip the remainder so long as he made an effort to source his homework assignments from his classmates for the entire day.

Pacing along the corridors heading for the tower Harry was intermittently shaking his head; he was both bemused and slightly dazed at the whole goings on and discoveries made throughout the day; and still the mystery of Harry's paternity remained...